You Are Perfect
by TMBlue
Summary: COMPLETE! Ron reflects on his place amoung his best friends, Harry and Hermione, his past with the two of them, focusing on his relationship with Hermione and why he has never been able to tell her how he really feels about her...
1. One

**You Are Perfect.**

**One.**

Your eyes didn't land on my face, not exactly. There was a bit of dirt between us. I kept scrubbing it off in the compartment after you left, but though I could no longer see it, it never really disappeared.

I called you names and rolled my eyes. You knew everything. You knew that you did.

We saved you from the troll. I always smiled when I thought I had done something brave. After that, you owed us something, or maybe you just realized that we didn't hate you, that I didn't. If Harry and I had not been friends, if we had walked through the portrait hole that night one by one, I have no doubt that you would have chosen him.

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. A mystery. Something to understand. A puzzle to solve.

Ron Weasley with dirt on his face. Too many siblings. Ginger hair and freckles all over. Too tall for his age and much too skinny... Afraid of spiders. You didn't know that yet that first Halloween, but no one would need to add another thing to that list. There was no contest. I wouldn't have blamed you for picking Harry. Well, sure I would have, but only because it hurt too much to realize the truth.

Was I really so brave down the trapdoor on the chess board? Then why was it Harry's bedside that I saw you sitting by when I woke up? Because he is the one that matters. He's the important one. You said so yourself. So did I, come to that. I knew it was true even then. So what if Ron Weasley, sixth son in a mocked wizarding family, died in a dungeon? I was never the one who lived, the boy who everyone stood in awe of because of something he could not even fully remember. But I've never blamed Harry for that. It mattered all the time to me that I was merely the hero's best friend. But that often made no difference where everyone else was concerned. I didn't mind so much when others at school would stop him in the halls or stare at his scar... at least not all the time. Sometimes I was even glad it wasn't me they were staring at. Sometimes I felt sorry for Harry, for what he had to endure because of an event so many years ago in his past.

Then there was you. When you saw Harry, sometimes you missed me altogether. And that mattered. It mattered a lot.

I suppose I often thought of all of our strengths individually, of what we had to offer, because I knew that none of us were exactly alike. We all had things we were good at, didn't we? Benefits that we brought to whatever we did.

Harry was the hero and the lucky one, the one who somehow scraped by everything no matter how dire it seemed. And he had determination, a reason to fight that none of us could understand. It was like signing a death warrant, honestly, the night You-Know-Who killed Harry's parents. It was obvious that Harry would want revenge, that he'd need it and seek it, and that was where Harry was strong.

Then you, Hermione Granger, brilliant and clever. You could do anything you put your mind to. And if someone were to tell you couldn't do something, it would make you that much more determined to do it to prove them wrong. More O.W.L.S. than most students knew existed once you completed your fifth year. Totally mental. Smart and... perfect.

Then there was me, Ron Weasley. Ginger hair. Good at chess. Afraid of spiders.

I guess it's a start.


	2. Two

**Two.**

Brave enough to know what you're up against but face it anyway. That's what I thought about you when I saw you in your bed in the infirmary... petrified. The sorting hat knew what it was doing when it put you in Gryffindor.

I know I didn't have a reason to feel sorry for myself when you were lying there stone still, but I couldn't help it. Sometimes it was right difficult being in the midst of everything all the time when those around you were going on with their lives and their days as if nothing could be more important than the latest potions essay.

Follow the spiders. Follow the spiders. I suppose it made sense. Nothing is ever easy, and when there's something you dread or despise as much as I hate spiders, it's bound to come up, bound to be the one thing that will lead you to the answer that you so desperately need. But you were the one who had a right to be afraid... Muggle born, a perfect target. And with Draco bleeding Malfoy sneering at you around every turn, it surely wasn't easy to be you that year. And then you were petrified. You could have been dead in an instant, dead before we even knew you were in danger. And what would I have done then?

I didn't know how much I needed you until you weren't there, until you were frozen and it was up to us, Harry and me, to be the brains, to be the brave ones, the ones who figured it all out and lived to tell you the tale when you woke up. Did you think we'd figure it out? Was the clue in your hand enough to get us there? Did you know that it would be? Did you trust that I'd be brave enough to face it with Harry alone, not knowing what would happen, not able to get myself out of it if something came up, some lesson we had surely been taught that you had been the only one of the three of us to pay attention to? Or did you expect us to fail?

When you woke up, I was ecstatic to tell you that we'd done it, that we'd figured it all out, that it was over. And you were proud, I think. You really were. Maybe I took too much pleasure from knowing that you were. But we'd done it. It was over. You were alright. Things were back to normal...

But what was normal exactly? Constantly fearing for our safety? I suppose I didn't see it that way then, not exactly. There were other important things in our lives... courses and books, exams and detentions. And we somehow found time to be worried about those things too, even when something so much bigger was looming just above us, sometimes just out of sight, but always there. Always watching.

Perhaps the worst thing was that I felt more confident that second year than I would for years to come. And perhaps the worst part about that fact was the knowledge that you were the reason. You weren't there. You couldn't help us. And we'd done it. We had won. You had given us the clue that got us there, yes. But I'd put my fears aside - not aside so much as unwillingly faced - and we'd come out alive.

But how can I hope to feel confident in your shadow? When you're there, everything is easy for you. All of the things that take time for me are simple in your eyes. First to know the answer to every question. First to tell me when you know I'm wrong. But you didn't get that chance. Not while you were petrified.

The day you woke up was the best day of the year for me. I couldn't have been happier. But when I thought about it later, that summer at the Burrow, I realized that maybe I needed you to look away so I could have my chance. It was selfish, but I thought back to that first night when we all became friends, that Halloween with the troll in the loo... what would have happened if Harry and I hadn't been there? Though I hated to think of it, I felt myself guiltily enjoying the feeling of satisfaction that I got from knowing that we saved you, that you might have died had we not done what we did.

But then I'd always come back to what I had done, to what I had said. I had started everything, hadn't I... Can I even feel brave about saving you when it was my fault you were there to begin with?

You were a nightmare, but one that I wanted to keep having. I don't mind so much when I wake up and it's you that I've been dreaming of. Just keep the spiders away. Or let me face them and win. Let me show them that I can be who the sorting hat must have thought I was. Because maybe I did choose Gryffindor, but maybe it also chose me.


	3. Three

**Three.**

Bloody stupid beast. Cat from hell. A nuisance, an interference... _more important than me._

I know it was idiotic, but I don't think I'll ever feel like I was entirely wrong. It wasn't because you loved that bloody cat. It wasn't because you were somehow blind to the fact that _cats eat sodding rats all the time!_ But it was Scabbers! He was _mine_! One of the few things that I could say that about... and you didn't care. It didn't matter if he really had snuffed it, did it? Or were you just too caught up in the argument to know what it was even about anymore, or to see why we were arguing in the first place?

I thought it was over one night in particular. I thought everything we'd been through was just going to fall through the cracks to be replaced by this row that had grown so huge from something so tiny and insignificant. I didn't even know how pointless and ridiculous it was then either. But I knew that I wasn't going to let you go. I knew that we'd get through it even if I had to pretend like it had never happened, even if I had to be the one to apologize to _you _after years of missing my rat and knowing the truth, that he wasn't coming back from the jaws of your stupid bleeding cat.

But I wasn't going to let it go so easily. Do you know how I felt? Useless, like dirt on your shoe... and all because your cat seemed to matter more to you than my pet's life.

Then Sirius came and took me away. We hadn't really properly made up yet. I didn't think about it until you showed up with Harry and hovered over my broken and gushing leg, the blood soaking my shredded trousers down to the ankle. But your eyebrows knitted together and you stared down at my leg. You had this expression on your face like you saw how important I was to you. I know I wasn't reading you right. I know you weren't thinking of me that way exactly. I was injured and trying not to cry in front of you, and we were friends, even through everything else. But right then, I guess it was all over. I guess what we had been fighting about sort of dissolved because of everything that had quite suddenly overpowered it.

It seemed that our rows always ended loudly anyway, shouting ourselves hoarse, getting ourselves into life threatening situations to realize how inconsequential what he had once been fighting over had really been... but it was worth it, and it always would be. No matter what the pain or the price, you were always worth it.

When it was all over, I realized I had missed you in a way. But something about that year made me see something else that I don't really like to admit, not even to myself... but here goes anyway...

Fighting with you can be a lot of fun sometimes.

Sure, it was miserable and over something pretty laughable now in this case, but the way you'd focus on me when we fought, like I was all that mattered to you... I know it was only because we were bickering, because you had to make me see your way, because you had to outdo me by coming up with something even cleverer than the last thing I'd said... and you always accomplished that goal quite thoroughly.

But you know who didn't matter when we fought? Harry. Sometimes we'd talk to him when we weren't together. I know I did, and I know you did as well. No use denying it. But when we were angry at each other and crossed paths, our eyes narrowed, our blood boiled, and our hearts raced to catch up with the other's. And bloody hell, that felt so good...

There were twinges, hints, little flickers in my brain sometimes that year when you'd get very close to me, your face inches away, flushed and hot... I'd feel something twitch and then disappear as rage overtook me.

Do you know that you are the only person who ever made me feel that way? People aren't supposed to enjoy rowing, but... maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe that little fire that would ignite and blow out in an instant was nothing but a warning that I needed to calm down, to back away, to end it before I let it go too far... But yet, thinking back now, I could see something else going on too, something I was way too immature and daft to even guess at back then.

You see, I had a problem that was already developing. And this little problem was becoming a much bigger one. It was growing instead of going away, increasing instead of shrinking, no matter how often I asked it to leave me alone.

I was falling...

We said goodbye at the end of the year as always, our eyes meeting on the platform, then meeting with Harry's too. We had, once again, been through a lot together. And it would only add to our bond and the stories we had to tell in the future.

But each summer, every time we'd say goodbye, my heart felt emptier than the last time... and the Burrow, without you in it, felt more lonely than ever.


	4. Four

**Four.**

Why does everything always have to get so complicated? You think you've got it all figured out, or maybe you don't even think that because you never thought about _anything _before now... at least not anything like _this_... I definitely never thought this way before...

What was I supposed to do? Ask you to go to that bloody stupid Ball with me? Really? That's what you wanted? I didn't believe that...

It only just started to matter that you might actually have someone who wanted to go with you somewhere that I couldn't follow. Or maybe that's just because it had never really come up before. We were always together - me and Harry and you. We never did things with other people. It just didn't happen. So when you said you had a date, I just didn't believe you. But somewhere in the back of my mind I was scared... _terrified_. Harry's shrugs and brush offs didn't help to convince me that I had nothing to worry about. I don't know why that should surprise me. After all, I never told Harry that I was worried about anything. I suppose it might have crossed his mind, maybe been a bit more obvious to him than I'd like to admit... but what right did I even have to care if you went with some secret person to the Ball anyway?

And why is it that with everything that happened to us that year, that ruddy useless Ball is the only thing that I really spent much time thinking about?! Even the argument I had with Harry seemed trivial in the end.

I guess it all started at the Quidditch World Cup. For some reason, things felt different that summer, like we were together just... because. It was the first summer that you spent part of with me, the first summer you spent away from home... and the fact that it was me (and Harry) that you spent that important summer with was so... wonderful.

When we returned to school, everyone was so excited about the tournament. I guess I wanted to enter, and I know Harry knew it. I believe I really would have if I could have, if I had been of age. Then, like every other time, Harry was the one that stood out, the one people talked about, the one who would go on to do something great, something _else _to be famous for. What right did he have to go behind my back, to do what he knew I wanted without letting me at least try against him? Sure, I knew that in the end, with me against Harry... well, no one would have been cheering on my side, let's just say that. And that got me wondering, because I knew it in the back of my mind... I _knew _it. If Harry was against me, if both of our names had gone in and you had known it... you would have picked Harry.

Okay, so you wouldn't have said it that way, and maybe you wouldn't have even really chosen him because you _liked _him better. Maybe that's what my immature fourteen year old mind angrily chanted when I was lying in bed at night seething over Harry being chosen when I didn't even have a chance to try... but it wasn't true, not exactly. You would have thought about it all very logically. Harry had a better chance because he had accomplished more, not because I wasn't as good, but because I hadn't been forced, under extreme circumstances, to prevail in situations that others our age couldn't even fathom. That's what you would have thought... and what you would have said if I had asked. Because you're you. Because you never lie, even when you have to hold on to tiny threads of truth to do it.

But, in the end, the truth is that Harry would have been the better candidate, the one who would go on to succeed, as he did, in the end. How would I have really fared against a dragon? I don't even like to think about it...

So I knew, finally, that it hadn't been Harry's fault, that he hadn't tried to trick me, to outsmart me, to go behind our backs and enter just to spite me. Because that isn't Harry. Because Harry loves us both. Because Harry's worth everything, worth dying for, worth sacrificing our happiness for, worth saving... Because even though he doesn't want to be, he's special, he's important, he's going to do something someday that even you and me, those who know him best, can't really believe.

And isn't that the problem? Isn't that the very reason why I knew that I'd never win? Why did everything have to be a contest? Just when I thought one battle had been won, or at least canceled, just when things were starting to go well again... you walk through those doors in your dress robes looking like a _girl, _a _girl _that I would die for, a _girl _that I... that I _fancy_. Because, well, I do... I did then too. I don't know why it took a moment like that to knock me down, to show me what I was hiding from myself. You on Viktor Krum's arm. My hero. Now my greatest enemy. Screw Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, _You-Know-Who_... I wanted Krum to suffer...

But who is the real coward? Let's add that to the growing list of characteristics of Ron Weasley. Too afraid of a girl to tell her that he fancies her.

But not just any girl. A perfect one. I guess that's why this is so complicated, isn't it...

And just so you know, you were never my last resort, not for a second. Maybe some day you'll _really _know that.


	5. Five

**Five.**

I've got no idea what I was thinking. The moment after I'd tried out and got the spot on the team, I was relieved. But not even an hour later, it all hit me. You'd be watching. _Everyone _would be watching. I'd never been perfect... or even close... at anything, unlike you.

So, it was up to me to prove something then, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that. I'm still not sure I was ready for that. I kept it a secret that I was even trying out because I didn't know how to tell Harry... or you. I didn't know how to tell anyone. It was like anything that made me stand out was up for grabs, people could say what they pleased, talk about me when I wasn't listening... and even worse, when I was. Blending in is an easy way to go completely under the radar. No one bothers you because there's nothing to say, nothing to notice. But we were never under the radar. You're never hidden from view when your best friend is Harry Potter, arguably the most famous boy ever to have lived... and all before he even arrived at school first year...

But now I've got this spot on my cheek that won't quit burning. Your lips touched me for seconds. _Seconds_! It's like something was etched into my skin, something permanent and meaningful, deeper than I could fully comprehend. It sunk beneath the deepest layer of my skin, reaching the muscle and blood underneath... and running through my veins straight to my heart. Poison. But when mixed with the right second ingredient, it could save my life.

You had no idea what you did to me, do you. All these things, these feelings I didn't want, boiling and stirring, quickening my pulse and making me dizzy. And then I was flying through the air, high above everyone I knew, far enough to barely make out the faces of those on the ground beneath me.

And then there was the excitement of the DA, feeling like we were important, necessary. Dueling with you in a hidden room, knowing we weren't supposed to be there at all. Learning how to produce a Patronus, a real one, and finally being good enough at something that hardly anyone else our age would dream of doing... seeing the silver light fly from my wand and dance around me. And seeing yours. Did you ever wander what it meant? They stand for something, don't they. A Patronus seems to represent a strong feeling, love or regret... despair. But to us it was all just a fun little game. It was astounding and mesmerizing, but we were in awe, happily knowing that we had done something brilliant, something _cool_... There were moments of pleasure and excitement...

It all crashed. I couldn't explain why Sirius' death was more than a lost friend to me, why the night after we escaped from the Department of Mysteries I couldn't sleep. In one instant, without a warning call, no flashing lights, no alarms... I was gone. I remember laughing after that instant... _laughing_... while everyone around me kept their heads so we'd make it out alive. And what good was I to them then? When it really mattered, when we'd stepped out of our hiding place and faced the real challenge - what we'd said we were preparing ourselves for - I was nothing. I might as well have stayed at Hogwarts, sat on my arse in the Common Room with the rest of the prats who had no idea that a war was starting, that someone important was dying, someone Harry loved, the only family he had left...

And _you_... I loved you! I bloody _loved _you right then and I couldn't save you! I couldn't protect you.

Your tears in the hospital wing the next night... each one ripped a small piece of my heart out of my chest. I heard you, but I did nothing. I wasn't good enough. Maybe I'll never be good enough. How hard can I try to make myself believe that we can work, that a little boy with no special talents, no extraordinary life in the end, can live up to you, can be worthy of you, can deserve the one thing that he wants more than anything else now, the person that he's been slowly (and recklessly) loving more and more each day...

Desperate. I don't know how much longer I can live in a shadow, waiting and hoping that I'll wake up different the next morning, that I'll have a reason to be optimistic.

One instant, and now I'll never be able to forget who I really am, the coward, the worthless piece of shit on Harry's shoe. But then that's just over dramatic. He's my best mate. You're _our _best mate. We'll go on being who we are, maybe changing slowly, but together. I'll never stop loving either of you. I'll keep trying, keep trying to live up to what you are - perfection. I suppose that _is _quite optimistic when you really think about it. And no matter how many times I tell myself it's useless, I still keep having the same dreams of you. _One day_... it's a whisper and a hope and a long shot at best. But isn't that what dreams really are? Maybe I'll never reach it. Maybe it's a goal too far out of my grasp. After all, I'm just me. Just Ron.

And you're everything.


	6. Six

**Six.**

I've got a bloody fantastic joke to share. Your best friend asks you to a Christmas party. You, being a total dimwit, assume she's asking you on a date and spend every waking second replaying it excitedly. Oh, guess what though? A little twat called Vikky got there first. Oh, and he did it far better than you could have or would ever be able to. He's probably the best bloody kisser in the world, and thanks to the little disaster that was the Yule Ball, she's already well aware of that.

'My _friend _Viktor_...' Liar_. You can sod off then! Go send him another love letter and leave me the hell alone!

But... damn it! I don't actually blame you, and I'm so angry that I don't! But I just can't. He's a Quidditch star. He's rich and famous. He's got that accent that all the girls seem to love even though it just bugs the hell out of me. If he can't say your name right... but I don't want to think about that right now. I don't want to ever have to think about or even look at the bastard ever again!

Then, when Lavender started to notice me, I realized that I had a shot. She actually seemed to be interested in _me_. Yeah, it's kind of cheap, going out with an attractive girl with hardly any sense who only _really _likes you because you won a Quidditch match. I'm not that daft. I was aware all along of what I was doing, what I was sinking to. But it was nice at first, in a way, to feel like she cared, even if it was all just a game. But in the end, it doesn't feel like anything at all to have the wrong person fancy you, does it... It's just... nothing, pointless, empty. But then, seeing your face when you caught us, wondering if it was affecting you at all... I was a prat. A totally disgusting prat. Showing off around you, making sure you saw us. Did it crush you as much as it would have in reverse? I doubt it.

Then McLaggen, further proof that I'm a moron. He could have been me! So what if it was only as your friend? _We _would have gone to the party together and that little git wouldn't have been able to get within a hundred feet of you. Instead, I get to hear absolutely revolting stories about him messing up your hair under some mistletoe. Sod everything. I hate Christmas.

So I found myself stuck with a girlfriend who annoyed the living piss out of me, a best friend who wouldn't speak to me or even look directly at me, and another best friend who kept shooting me slightly dirty looks when I made no courageous efforts to patch things up. It wasn't just irritating, it was practically unbearable.

My solution? Get myself poisoned to the point of near death, get admitted to the infirmary, and wait for it to just sort of work itself out. I was shocked at how simple it was really. I only had to nearly die to fix things. If I had known that sooner... But no, that's not how I would have wanted it. It seems like I cheated, got a second chance I didn't in any way deserve, because it wasn't some conniving plan of mine to wind up pitifully lying there, waiting for you to cry over me. I may be a tosser, but I'm not that insensitive. Besides, I would never have been smart enough to purposefully pull something that mental off without actually dying. And that might have ruined things just a bit...

But guess what? You care a whole lot about me. I believe you now when you say that you do. How is it possible that after all I put you through, I'm still worth it to you? I'm nothing! I'm rubbish it nearly everything I do. I'm not especially attractive. Maybe I've put on a little muscle from Quidditch, but come on. That doesn't fool you. You never cared about... wait. What am I saying? Because I really don't think you ever _did _care about those things! You're not superficial or shallow. You have a kind heart and exceptionally generous soul. You spend far too much time pretty much tutoring Harry and I... So what the bloody hell was this whole year about then?! Nothing I did or thought makes any sort of logical sense! Wow...

Okay, so let's just say that you did fancy Viktor... I've seen you write letters to him over the years, and now, thanks to my big mouth sister, I know you acted more than friendly towards each other in fourth year. But... you're still here. You sat at my bed day after day after I was poisoned, you stuck by me while I avoided my girlfriend instead of just sucking it up and breaking it off right away like I should have. And then, after it was over, there you were, still hanging around, still checking my homework... still _smiling _at me!

And finally, just when I was starting to wonder if things could change, if my luck might be turning... Dumbledore. Dead. I still can't even comprehend it. It doesn't make sense. He was immortal! That's the way he always seemed to me. He was the face on the Chocolate Frog card that smiled up at me, waiting for me to come to Hogwarts and see him in person. He was the mental headmaster who always made me laugh, even when others seemed confused by his humor. He was the most brilliant wizard I had ever met. And then what were we left with? Something undoable to do. Something unmentionable, literally.

But there was still this one thing bothering me, something that I felt utterly selfish to still be even pondering after something so significant, so life changing had just taken place... but I couldn't help it. I can't see inside your head. I can't know what you're thinking. And no matter how long I wait, covering my feelings and sneaking glances at you, I will never be able to know without trying, never be able to see what you're thinking without asking. So I've got a task this year too, something only I know about. It's mine alone. I can't ask for help, can't rely on my friends to be there for me. This is my mission, my adventure. And it starts now.


	7. Seven

**Seven.**

It might have been perfect. Just me, you, and Harry. And we both know how Harry likes to be alone sometimes to think... We worried about him, as always, but then afterwards we were just me and you... just us. Sitting in the tent in the middle of nowhere, we were on our own island, isolated from the world, from conversations with other people, from distractions and excuses. I ran through every reason not to tell you, not to have _that _conversation. But each one got ticked off, dismissed, because none of them mattered anymore. I had made a promise to myself. I was going to keep it.

Did you notice how my hands would shake when Harry would leave us alone on my bunk, mumbling that he was tired or needed a cup of tea? There was this moment between us, every single time, when we'd just stare at each other as if daring the other to say... _something_.

_Go on. Tell me what's on your mind. Tell me the words that are stuck somewhere between my brain and my lips._

Then you'd look away, or I would, and we'd talk about what we were going to do next, whisper about how Harry didn't know where to turn, what steps to really take. I think we fueled each other, made it more difficult in a way to keep up our spirits when Harry was there and we could no longer complain. It had become a habit to argue about how we weren't ready for this, how we had been thrown into action, caught off guard. Sometimes you defended Harry and I'd sulk for the afternoon. Sometimes you'd agree with me and I couldn't stop smiling.

I got rather used to the feel of cold metal around my neck. It was something of a comfort once in a while, like I was in charge of something huge. I had a responsibility that scared me and thrilled me all at once. But those little moments I'd seen before between you and Harry, those kind words, the tender touches and glances, the way you agreed with him just to make him feel better, the way you'd give him a smile to improve his mood when the rain was pounding relentlessly against the canvas above our heads... I felt my temperature rise, my blood pounding through my veins... I don't know what I wanted to do, how I wanted to react, though I know it wasn't good. And I stopped myself every time from continuing to watch, forcing myself not to bring painful torture on my own heart when I had been so close to something days before, so close to whispering words to you that I'd never said aloud before... secrets, only for you.

I could have punched Harry, and I could always imagine it, like a flash or a dream, warm blood gushing from his nose, my knuckles throbbing with reality. But I always brought myself back to the truth, to who we really were. Then Harry would leave me with you again at the end of the night, and you'd ask me for the locket. I'd hand it to you wordlessly, and when I watched your fingers brush the skin of your neck, my heart would stop beating just for a second, and when it would start again, I'd be free... My burdens taken on by someone else. Though I didn't know what it really was that you were taking from me, saving me from, until it was too late to let you take it all from me for good...

I saw you choosing him! I saw you stepping closer. It wasn't even difficult for you! My departure was a haze of confusion and anger, red sparks in front of my eyes, wet pieces of too-long ginger hair obscuring my vision as I tried not to cry. Everything I wanted... well, it's all just one thing. And I let it go. I lost you because I left you...

I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself.

You didn't really choose him, did you. You chose bravery, I chose weakness. You chose loyalty, I chose selfishness. You made the hard choice while I made the simple one. If you ever forgive me, it will be too soon. I see what you saw now, I see myself choosing _me _over you. Bloody hell, how could I have been so blind?

When I woke up, all I wanted was to see you again. And all I knew was that I deserved to die alone, to never look upon your face, your perfection, _ever _again... because all the things I once thought I was, the person I'd been, the one who I thought wasn't worthy... well, I had just started to climb out of that ditch, started to see myself as someone that at least had the right to try. I loved you so damn much. I could have offered you something so huge. I couldn't even contain it sometimes. I'd shout when no one could hear, hold my breath when you were around, because it was too much for my weak heart to hold - all that I felt for you. But when I left you, when I watched you running after me, when I gave up on my promise, I became what I _thought _I had been before, worse now than I had even imagined. The person I had finally started to convince myself I might not be was exactly who I made myself into.

I'll never deserve you.

But when I heard your voice in my pocket, calling my name... I forgot what I had done just for a moment. All I knew was I had to see you again. My chest constricted painfully when Harry brought me to the tent, when I knew what was coming. It was like I could see you inside the canvas... the end of a mistake when I'd smile at you. I hoped you'd forgotten everything.

I believed everything Harry said to me in the forest, that all those little moments I'd witnessed had been magnified and skewed by my own insecurities. And I had destroyed them that night with Harry by my side. The last bit of tension between us all had been cleared. And even when I saw you, even when you started to hit me, sending shocks of pain through my body, I was happy. I was relieved. Oh, I had never felt so complete, so peaceful.

Every single day I'll beg you for forgiveness, though I don't expect you or want you to accept it yet. I'm not ready to be forgiven.

But then _that _night I heard you screaming out of my reach. I had never heard anything so powerful. It cut through me as if I had been sliced open with a blade. My screams and sobs were my blood, gushing to the stone floor of the dungeon. If you died, if I never saw you again, I'd bleed to death to join you...

When I felt your body in my arms, it was more than too good to be true. If you survived... I swore to myself things were going to be different. The promise I had made to myself, long ago forgotten now, was the only thing I could hold onto as I waited for Fleur to tell me you'd be alright.

And when you woke up... you smiled at me. You actually _smiled _at me! How many times will you forgive me? How many times will you stay with me when I should be cast aside?

Our adventure was at a turning point. Everything happened so quickly, a blur.

And now...

You, Hermione Granger, are bloody kissing me! I must be dreaming... but I'm not. I must be dead... but I'm alive. Life swims beneath my eyelids. Everything I've ever felt is nothing compared to this. You feel weightless, though I'm holding you off the ground. I hear Harry's voice somewhere... maybe he's calling us from outside the castle... or from the next room over. He can't possibly still be in this room with us, though I suppose I would never know if the whole of the world crammed in next to us...

I'm staring into your eyes. I'm shouting silently that you are everything. We've got one more night to fight, one more battle to survive. We're going to make it. I just _know _we are. And then I'll tell you. _Then_...

...we'll be perfect.

**END.**


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